His fingers closed over the small, daintily gloved hand, holding it in a warm and tender clasp.

“Then do not forget that you are not to undertake anything that can tax your strength, without my knowledge and permission.  Nor must you, Rose,” he added with playful authority, turning an affectionate, smiling glance upon her; “you too are worn out and must have rest.”

“Well, my dear,” she said laughingly, “I make no rash promises.  You know I never have equalled Elsie in submissiveness.”

“No; and yet you have usually shown yourself amenable to authority.”

“Perhaps because it has so seldom been exerted,” she saucily returned.  “My dear, we have not yet had our first quarrel.”

“And have lived together for thirty odd years.  I think it would hardly be worth while to begin after so long a delay.”

“Nor do I,” she said, “therefore shall probably yield to your wishes in this matter—­or commands, call them what you will; especially as they are in full accord with my own inclinations.”

“Elsie,” he said, turning to his daughter again, “I have taken the liberty of inviting some guests to Ion this morning.”

“Liberty, papa!” she exclaimed.  “It would be impossible for you to take liberties with me or mine; I consider your rights and authority in any house of mine fully equal, if not superior to my own.  If the mistress of the mansion be subject to your control,” she added, with a bright look up into his face, and much of the old time archness in her smile, “surely all else must be.”

“Thank you, daughter; then I have not taken a liberty, but I have invited the guests all the same.  You do not ask how it happened or who they are, but I proceed to explain.

“In glancing over the morning paper, while you and Rose were attiring yourselves for the drive, I saw among the items of news that Donald Keith is in our city.  So I dispatched Solon with a carriage and a hastily written note, asking Donald to come out to see us, bringing with him any friend or friends he might choose.”

“I am glad you did, papa; they shall have a warm welcome.  But will it not make it necessary for us to return home earlier than we intended?”

“No, not at all, it is not likely they will arrive until near our dinner hour—­if they come at all to-day, and if they should be there earlier, Violet is quite capable of entertaining them.”

“Yes,” said Mrs. Dinsmore, “I know of no one more competent to minister to the enjoyment of either grown people or children.  As regards talent, sweetness of disposition, and utter unselfishness combined, our Vi is one in a thousand.”

“Thank you, mamma, for saying it,” Elsie said, her eyes shining with pleasure.  “She seems all that to me; but I thought it might be that mother love magnified her good qualities and made me blind to her imperfections.”

Violet, in the nursery at home, was showing herself worthy of these encomiums by her efforts to amuse the little ones and keep them from missing the dear mother who had been so constantly with them of late.  She played quiet little games with them, told them beautiful stories, showed them pictures and drew others for them, dressed dolls for Rosie and cut paper horses for Walter.